


TMNT Turtle-Dragon Drabbles

by JazzTheTiger



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Drabbles, Gore, Hunting, Multi, turtle dragons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 16:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9132265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzTheTiger/pseuds/JazzTheTiger
Summary: Turtle-Dragons are inspired by that lost season from 2k3 where they all turn into dragons.The turtles have gained a unique ability - they can shapeshift into dragons and back whenever they want.A series of drabbles exploring their adventures in the AU, because I don't think I'll get around to drawing them all.





	1. Donatello

 

 

Donatello hums in contentment as he soars over green and orange speckled mountains and valleys, languidly watching a flock of birds crossing the mountain range on their annual migration.  
His enormous wings lazily catch the warm updrafts and effortlessly lifts him higher, despite the weight of his Sensei strapped to his shell.

The sun beats down and warms him to his core, the feeling a rare luxury that he could not have gotten back in the city, hiding away in dark, dank sewers and only emerging at night.

Now the sun fills his reptilian body with warmth and energy and he can move with an almost weightless speed.

His brothers fly nearby, they’re in a flight formation of their own, enough distance between them to allow for changes in direction or speed, but close enough to be in each other’s peripheral vision. For now they are silent, likely feeling a similar state of contentment as Donatello.

He is happy in a way that leaves his mind peacefully blank, a rare thing for the genius turtle, who’s brain is always buzzing with numerous trains of thought.

 

They’d left the city behind, having defeated the worst of their enemies shortly after acquiring their dragon forms, and having no other pressing matters to attend, they’d felt it would be a good time as any to have their first family holiday. Being mutants meant that they couldn’t enjoy any of the resorts or holiday facilities the humans did.

Instead they decided to go on a road trip.  
In the sky.  
Through the wilderness.

Don had already thought of the many ways it could go wrong before they even set out.

Leo had worried about the safety of the city and their friends in their absence.

Mikey lamented the lack of television and games.

Raph, surprisingly was the most excited about the idea.

When questioned, Raph had pointed out they would get to hunt for their food.  
Don had sighed and rolled his eyes. Game hunting. Of course.

Master Splinter had suggested it, as a valuable life experience, a journey and exploration of the mind, spirit and body, and the opportunity to relax and unwind without any pressing threats from enemies.

They had been stuck in the city’s sewers for their whole lives, with Splinter as a mutant rat raising them. It was the least they could do for their Father and Sensei, to give him the opportunity to leave the confines of New York City, for the first time in sixteen years. Even if it was only for the season.

They knew all too well that their trip off the beaten path and into the unknown, would not be without its dangers. But what was the danger of bad weather, natural disasters, and wildlife compared to the Shredder and his Foot clan? Feral mutants? Or an alien invasion?

They’d battled all and come out on top, plus they could shapeshift between mutant turtle and dragon now at their own convenience.

If the weather turned bad, they could land, and if things on the ground got dicey they could fly off and leave without having to worry about human casualties.

It was great to be a dragon in battles, flashing teeth and talons and charged with their respective elemental powers, the thrill of watching the dismay grow in their enemy’s eyes, realising they’re outgunned. And it was proving quite useful out in the wild too, they were dragons more often than not out here. They travelled and hunted as dragons, sometimes slept in their dragon forms if they were too exhausted to change back.

But if Donatello had to choose a form permanently, he preferred being a turtle. His dragon hands were not so great for the type of fiddly work that he enjoyed in his lab.

However, as he discovered, with the first change came a mess of dragon instincts that affect him even when he’s just a turtle.

And some of the myths regarding dragon behaviour had a grain of truth to them – hoarding treasure for example.

Donatello always had a habit of hoarding junk since early childhood, when he began to tinker with things.

He was now the serial offender of compulsive hoarding in the lair. If something catches his eye, it’s in his hands and on his pile before he even realises he’s picked it up.

His family, even April and Casey have had to go searching through the small mountain of junk in his lab for missing objects, thankfully he’s not territorial with his hoard, unlike Michelangelo. His orange banded brother gets quite aggressive when anyone approaches his hoard, which coincidentally is in his bedroom. Donatello has even found him possessively curled up on top of his pile of toys and empty food packaging. Getting him out can quickly become a nightmare.

Even Leonardo is guilty of a small stash of random shinies in his bedroom.

 

One thing contrary to the myths though, was the sky hunger.

When underground in the sewers there’s always a niggling discomfort, that gradually grows more and more oppressive, until it becomes full blown claustrophobia, complete with panic attacks and eventual insanity.

Remaining a turtle slows the process down, but doesn’t stop it.

With the now constant need to feel the air currents and open sky above their heads, Donatello cannot comprehend the myths where dragons live hidden deep in caves for years on end.

After Raphael’s psychotic meltdown a few months back as a result from being ‘grounded’ for a week, their Sensei had to rethink his punishment methods.

 

When the temperature in the air began to steadily drop and fog started to obscure the landscape below, Splinter calls an end to their flight, it’s time to set down for the night. They circle the area, searching for a suitable clearing in the trees for their camp, the time in direct sunlight kept them warm during the day, but the forests on ground level are damp and frigid at night. They will need to make a fire and find food before settling down for the night.

Winter was on its way, it’s frosty tendrils nipping at their heels on their journey south to the tropics. They were nearing the end of the Appalachian mountains, and the land was beginning to flatten. Soon they would cross the plains and follow the connecting ranges of mountains, sticking close to the slopes and highlands to avoid people.

 

Don and his brothers alight on a rocky outcrop at the foot of an old worn down mountain, a thin stream trickles nearby.

When Donatello feels Splinter’s weight slide off his shell, he nearly groans aloud in relief.

Though his wings can easily carry the extra weight, his back does sag and grow sore from it.

He waits impatiently for Splinter to unbuckle the leather straps that secure the saddle to his shell.

The moment he senses his freedom he bolts, there is a soft patch of silt by the stream with his name on it.

His brothers hang back to watch in amusement as Donatello blissfully rolls around in the dirt. There is nothing a good roll can’t fix after a long flight, it certainly helps him straighten the kinks in his spine. He feels the gritty texture of sand grains scratching at his scales in a most satisfying way, and sighs happily.

In the background he hears Mikey snickering at his expense but he doesn’t care, it’s not like he’s the only one to roll in the dirt.

He pauses mid-roll to note Raph has moved to perch on a rock nearby, probably waiting for his turn, the hot-head gives an impatient flick of his tail and Don continues his rolling for a few more minutes.

He sits up and shakes himself off, earning an annoyed growl from his brother, not that it helps, the silt is damp and clings to his body.

As he returns to the clearing his father sighs in exasperation and lightly scolds him for getting so filthy, Don just grins shamelessly, he’d long since decided it was worth it.


	2. Raphael

 

 

Raphael groans aloud as he flops onto his back in the now vacant patch of dirt beside the stream, his wings, chest and back ache from flying all day, every day, for the past fortnight.  
Rolling in the dirt was a good way to massage the pain out of his muscles.

 

When he’d first transformed into his dragon form, Brainiac had expressed doubts that he would be capable of flying, given that his wings were probably too small to carry his thick and heavily muscled body.  
Raphael had proven Donatello wrong, he could fly, he just had to work harder to stay in the air.

Throughout their journey Raphael was always falling behind, being the slowest flyer, and he struggled a lot with turbulence or the when wind was against them.  
Donatello had been forced to hang back too, despite being capable of outflying Mikey, even with Sensei on his back.  
Their father does not handle the heights and speed too well, even a great ninja master can suffer motion sickness.

Of course that meant his brother’s natural talent was being rubbed in his face all day.  
While Raph constantly beat his wings in an endless battle against gravity, his taller sibling simply hung in the air with his wings outstretched like sails and smoothly floated onwards.  
One time, Don jokingly asked if he’d like to hitch a ride with Sensei, Raph had felt sorely tempted to set the smug bastard’s tail on fire.

 

With a grunt the red turtle-dragon stands, dripping dirt as he rises, he's rested long enough, he has work to do.  
Prey to hunt.  
Excitement prickles in his feet and raises the spines along his shell at the prospect of chasing down a herd of deer.  
He spots Leonardo perched on a rock in the middle of a stream, watching the water with predatory intent.  
Fishing for trout, Raphael surmises. They don’t grow very large in these mountains, so it was probably for Splinter.

“Going hunting.” Raphael announces to the clearing in general, before he stalks off through the underbrush.  
He sees Mikey’s head pop up behind Donnie from the corner of his eye and chuckles quietly to himself, hearing his youngest sibling’s feet scamper after him.

“Go roll first, so they don’t smell you coming”, he tells Mikey, who now walks beside him wearing his infamous puppy dog face.  
His excitable brother gives a whoop of delight as he races back to the dirt patch by the stream. Apparently loud enough to scare the fish away, if Leo’s hiss of frustration was anything to go by.

Raph continues through the forest, and finds crisscrossing tunnels created by small animals travelling through the undergrowth, he follows them in the hope they may lead him to a proper trail.  
Occasionally he pauses, searching the breeze for scents of larger prey. Michelangelo pads along behind him, poking his snout into every burrow he can find, despite his big brother’s warning of venomous snakes.

The brilliant pinks and purples from the setting sun filters through the canopy, and the mist clings heavy to the surrounding vegetation, dampening his sense of smell, when they hear the shrill cry of a buck echo through the valley they were exploring.  
Moments later they come upon the game trail, leading them into a grassy clearing where the deer gather.  
Knowing the herd will melt back into the safety of the dense forest once the light fades, Raph doesn’t hesitate. Tucking his wings tight to his sides and keeping his body slung low he stalks quickly around the edge of the clearing closest to where the biggest stag stands guard.  
Mikey wordlessly slinks in the opposite direction, ready to drive them towards him.

Raphael is already in position when the snap of a twig echoes across the clearing from Mikey’s direction.

The stag freezes to survey the area while the rest of the herd bolts for the trees. The large deer is only a few steps away from him.

While its head is turned, Raph explodes from the vegetation and latches on to its throat.

Michelangelo charges across the clearing to help, further scattering the rest of the deer.

The stag digs its hooves into the earth and bellows, refusing to be dragged down by the powerful arms and talons dug deep in its shoulders. The sharp tines on its antlers barely miss tearing the delicate membranes of his wing when it tosses its head to throw him off. They clack loudly against his shell instead.

Mikey flings his weight at its side, and the proud stag topples. Raphael hurries to re-establish his grip on its throat while the stag kicks at his sides, and Mikey helpfully pins its legs with his own body.

Raph violently jerks his head, producing a sickening pop from the beast’s neck that makes Mikey cringe.  
The deer goes still.

They pull away, panting for breath, hearts thudding against their ribs from the burst of adrenaline. Raphael’s face, neck and chest is painted with dark red splashes of the deer’s blood, droplets glitter like rubies, stark against his emerald scales.

 

Several months ago, before they became dragons, they would have baulked at such a barbaric display of hunting. Back then they would have been satisfied with smaller animals and whatever wild berries and nuts they could find.

But dragons are strict carnivores, with all the apex predator instincts one might expect, and even as turtles their mouths still water when they see prey animals. In the city their need for meat had been troublesome, living in hiding and with no money they had no way of acquiring fresh meat. Having no choice but to steal it.

Raphael remembered the look on their father’s face the first time they returned home from patrol with a frozen pig’s carcass clutched between them.  
He had been shocked, and outraged they would do something as dishonourable as stealing.

With the scent of fresh meat so near, triggering the now familiar bloodlust, Leonardo had been brave enough to look the Ninja Master in the eye and tell him the alternative was eating people. A compelling argument, Raph thought, when faced with the turtle leader partially transformed into a dragon.  
Pupils slitted, teeth sharp and claws curled around the carcass.

That happened sometimes, the loss of control with the dragon form.

Raphael himself was the worst for it, but Leo usually had far better control over himself.

He had been the first to take on the body of a dragon, it was a month before anyone else tried. But by the time they were all changed, Leonardo was noticeably thinner. Slowly starving, on a diet that consisted mostly of grains and vegetables.

Raphael had to drag Leo away from the unconscious body of a Purple Dragon gang member on that patrol, but before he got to him, his brother had already taken a bite out of the man’s arm. It had been a rude awakening for them all, those new little urges niggling at the back of their minds were not to be taken lightly anymore.

Leo was quick to snap out of it thankfully, but they had to do something and soon. So they stole from a butcher’s warehouse.  
It didn’t feel so bad to take one pig, there were so many hung up in the refrigerated rooms.

But when faced with their father’s fury, Raphael had doubted.

He watched as their Master straightened to his full height, ear’s flattening, and scowl deepening at Leo’s words but before Splinter could utter a word, Leo cut him off with a growl. Mostly dragon by then, their eldest brother had snarled at their father like a wolf guarding it’s kill, teeth bared and all.

When confronted with the evidence of even his most dedicated student turning feral, the Ninja Master had no choice but to accept that his sons were now carnivores, and stealing meat to feed them was a necessary evil.

 

Raphael absentmindedly licks the blood from his snout while he considers their latest catch.

One of the proud antlers has snapped, remembering the strike to his shell earlier, he checks himself for injury.  
Only a scratch on his shell and the drying blood on his scales attest to his short battle of strength with the big stag.

It’s a shame he can’t bring a trophy home, he muses to himself, if they had remained intact the antlers would look impressive on his bedroom wall. Something to show off to Casey when they returned.  
He mentally shrugs, he’ll just have to settle for impressing the rest of the family with their catch.

The red banded turtle regretfully breaks the antlers off the deer, knowing they would cause trouble on the way back.He slings part of the deer onto his brother’s shell, then worms himself underneath to carry the rest on his own shell. They slowly walk side by side, back to where their brothers have finished setting up the camp.

Leo greets them with comically wide eyes, “Holy cow! That’s a big one!”

“You should’a seen the size of it’s horns!” Mikey bristled with sudden energy, ready to regale the blue turtle-dragon with the tale of their hunt.

“We’re feasting tonight!” Raphael announces, the scent of wood smoke awakens the hunger gnawing at his stomach. His mouth floods with anticipation.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Donatello interrupts sternly before Raphael can take a bite “You’re not eating that raw! Those deer pick up all kinds of parasites!”

The three brothers groan in dismay.

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't seen them before, here's what they look like --> <http://fav.me/da3uk1d>


End file.
